


Grounds and Dust

by cellard00rs



Series: CSAC series [14]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Polyamory, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-09-06 20:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8768038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellard00rs/pseuds/cellard00rs
Summary: Set within the Coffee Stains and Cigarettes AU, we take a peek into the far flung future - wherein Stan tries to bring back a portal-lost Ford...and gets the wrong one...





	1. Prologue

The portal hums and buzzes. It zips and whirs and Stan’s heart leaps right into his throat.

The switch turned itself. It thrust on, coming to life of its own accord, and Stan has no idea why, but he honestly doesn’t give a shit, blood hammering hot and hungry throughout his veins because Ford, Ford, please god, is this somehow Ford’s doing?!

The portal becomes a shimmering mirror and a man emerges. He’s wearing a long, dark flowing trench coat, black goggles, and a thick shawl around his face. The portal fades behind him, ripples away to nothing, switch lowering itself and Stan can barely breathe, body aching with desire. Desperation sets his teeth on edge as he waits. It’s neigh impossible to wait, but he does.

He waits as the man draws back the goggles and the shawl and reveals Ford’s face. Ford! Stan’s lips tremble as he breathes the name and the man looks at him, eyebrows raised high, “Stanley?”

Tears fills Stan’s eyes and just as he reaches out, ready to embrace his twin, Ford holds up a halting hand, “Stanley of dimension 45'\?”

“Huh?”

Ford reaches into his voluminous coat and withdraws a strange looking ray gun. He points it at Stan who raises his hands up in confused surrender. A light flashes out, sweeping up and down Stan’s body. Ford looks at the back of the gun and clucks his tongue, “Nope. Wrong dimension. Damn. Really thought I had it this time.”

“W-what? Ford, what-?”

“I’m not _your_ Ford,” he replies easily as he tucks the gun away, “And you’re not _my_ Stanley.”

Ford’s gaze sweeps up and down Stan, from the top of his head to the bottom of his shoes. Stan stands there, long silver hair pulled back into a ponytail, white tank under an unbuttoned blue shirt, gold necklace as visible as the old, frayed leather cuff around one of his wrists. His jeans are dirty and one of his boots is untied and he feels every single one of his sixty years as Ford’s eyes narrow, “Thankfully.”

Stan scowls, “Ford, what the hell are you-?”

His words are cut off by Ford’s aggrieved groan as he turns his back on him and focuses his attention on the portal, “This is just one of several dimensions. Some of them mirror one another. I’m sure even with your rudimentary understanding of science you can grasp the concept of-”

“I know what alternate dimension are,” Stan snaps, crossing his arms, “You and me used ta talk about ‘em all the time and – yeah, yeah, okay, okay – MY Ford and I,” he makes sure to correct himself as Ford starts waving his hands and sputtering, clearly annoyed at Stan’s phrasing.

All the elation Stan felt before has now drained away, leaving him cold and angry as he glares at this cheap replica of his twin, “I get it, okay? I graduated high school, did some college – I’m no dummy.”

Ford turns to Stan with some surprise on his features, “You did? Huh…well, you’ve got a leg up on most Stans then.”

Stan’s cheeks heat, “What’s _that_ suppose ta mean?”

“I mean most Stanleys don’t graduate high school, much less go to any level of higher education. Curious. I wonder what took place in this world that was different,” Ford looks around the basement, eyes squinted, “I see some…interesting tech. Things I would never have had my hands on in my time. Perhaps you are from an accelerated timeline? Tell me, did you both grow up in the 1960s?”

“What?! No! We were born much, much later…”

“Ah, then my suspicions are correct! I wonder what else is different – tell me, did you perhaps break your Ford’s science fair project.”

“No…”

“I see,” Ford walks over to the portal, fiddles with one of the panels and opens it, hands reaching inside the circuits within to root around as he continues, “Another variation on our usual theme. In every dimension I’ve traveled to, I’ve noted that the Fords that actual complete their science fair projects fair better than others that do not, myself included. It’s a shame that only a handful of Stanleys are trustworthy…”

“Hey! What the fuck is that supposed to mean!” Stan growls, the heat spreading from his face down his neck, anger rising at this flippant son of a bitch who is NOT his brother.

This Ford just smirks, eyes on his work as he talks oh, so casually, “Just that. Most Stanleys are intent on sabotaging their Fords futures, but you did not and it obviously benefited the both of you, albeit your Ford still built a portal and was lost.”

Ford doesn’t even look away as he flippantly remarks, “At least that was the gist of what I got upon arrival – your Ford is still out there…lost in the multiverse, much like myself.”

The words leech the heat away, cold pain taking its place, “…yes. He’s…he’s lost…”

“Eh,” Ford shrugs, “He should be fine. I know I myself have had a fabulous time on my travels. Seeing the variety of different worlds, different species…I picked up an unfortunate tattoo, of course, but otherwise it’s been a fairly pleasurable experience.”

Stan blinks, stunned, the pain morphing into an unbelievable hurt, “What?”

“God…Stans…all of you so-so _obtuse_ ,” Ford grumbles loudly under his breath before snapping the panel shut and turning his administrations to the switch, “Education or no…you are just like all the others. Dull witted, bumbling leeches…”

“Look, if you’re gonna talk some shit, do it to my face!” Stan hisses and Ford just shoots him a nasty look, “I’m _trying_ to reassure you! Aside from the upcoming battle with Bill, I’ve come across very few Fords who have had many woes on their travels.”

“So…so what? You’re saying my Ford’s out there livin’ it up?! Having the time of his life!” The very idea guts Stan, makes his voice sound like it’s on the edge of hysteria, because how can this Ford be so goddamn caviler? Doesn’t he understand Stan, ANY Stan, at all?

How can he not get how losing Ford destroys Stan? How can he not get that any Stan worth his salt would sacrifice everything to bring back his twin, his brother – his other half?!

Granted, maybe _this_ Ford and his Stan aren’t…aren’t as _close_ as he and his Ford are. He chews on his bottom lip, not sure how to broach that subject. Not sure how to even begin to ask this Ford if he is at all involved romantically with his Stan. Much less what, if any, role Preston plays. Or, rather, _played_. Thinking of Northwest causes the normal knot to form in Stan’s stomach…Christ…he’s lost so goddamn much…

Stan clears his throat and decides; what the hell? Why not go for broke? It’s not like this is his Ford, it’s not like he gives a shit what this guy thinks, “You…you think he wouldn’t wanna come back to me? Given…given our, ah, involvement?”

Ford looks at him, eyebrows raised, “‘Involvement’? What involve-?”

He looks at Stan, sees Stan play with the two, plain gold rings he has on the fourth finger of his left hand. He pales, “My god…you two are-?”

Stan stands tall, shoulders back, “Yeah? What of it?”

Ford scoffs, “Nothing. I’m just…surprised. Here’s a Ford with a clear advantage over me, having completed his project and no doubt attended West Coast Tech and yet he _chose_ to-to involve himself more deeply with you. I mean it’s just…it’s a shock is all.”

“A-a shock?”

Ford shrugs, “He could do much better. To waste himself; his genius, on you…it’s-it’s staggering.”

Stan doesn’t wait a second later. He doesn’t even hesitate. He barges over to Ford and socks him right in the jaw. Ford’s head snaps back and Stan snarls, “Don’t you ever, EVER talk shit about him, you hear me?! You don’t say one word about MY Ford! You don’t know nothing about him, you don’t know nothing about me – you don’t know a goddamn thing!”

“Care to enlighten me?” Ford slurs as he rubs at his wounded chin and Stan’s eyes shoot daggers at him, “Why should I? You’re sucha goddamn genius, right? I bet you already know!”

“No,” Ford admits with a grunt, “I don’t. And I’ll admit myself curious – curious as to what would drive a perfectly good Ford into committing such an atrocity! To give himself over to such a taboo relationship. I mean, my lord, incest? Really? Obviously something must have happened – some catalyst to knock you both over into such an abysmal state of affairs – perhaps sexual abuse or phys-” Ford trails off at Stan’s look and his face grows knowing, “Ah, I see. Abuse. I take it both of you were-”

“No,” Stan bites out, “No. Just you,” he immediately overrides that with, “Just-just _him_.”

“Who-?”

“Pops.”

“Po-? Our father?” Ford shakes his head, immediately dismissive, “No. he would never-!”

“Bullshit! You’re telling me there ain’t a version of Filbrick Pines that isn’t capable of laying hands on his son?”

“Well, _mine_ certainly didn’t! He was an upstanding father! Difficult to please, yes, but strong. Dedicated. He evicted Stanley from our home for damaging my project and did his best to amend-!”

“Evic-?” Stan can’t even finish saying the word, breath coming out in furious pants, “He kicked me out!”

“Yes. It’s not uncommon for-”

“I was in _high school_! I was a _kid_!” Stan roars, “He kicked me out and you…you and a buncha other Ford was okay with that?!”

Ford’s expression is dark, “And why not? You, well, not you, but most Stanleys are selfish. They care only about themselves and their preconceived ideas of what our future should be! They want the boat and glory and don’t truly give a damn about what their Fords _actually_ want.”

“Oh ho – and pray tell, what DO you all want?”

“FREEDOM,” Ford bellows, “Freedom from YOU!”

Stan lips clamp into a line as he tries to keep himself from trembling, but it’s too late. His whole body shakes with violent emotion, eyes hot as he manages, “You…you hate me that much?”

“God,” Ford rubs at his face and groans, “It’s not about hate, Stanley. It’s about what’s best for everyone. And what’s best for me is to be apart from you and your suffocating atmosphere.”

Stan sucks in a loud breath through his nose and refuses to cry. Goddamn it he _refuses_ to cry. This Ford, unnoticing or uncaring or both, withdraws another strange looking gun from his coat and toys with it, “I do, however, find it very interesting that your Ford still built the portal here and not in some lab. Tell me, after college, how did your Ford not-?”

“ _My_ Ford,” Stan croaks, “ _Wanted_ to be with me. He…he _still_ wants that. I know it. I-I _believe_ it.”

“Hmm, you sound _very_ convincing.”

Stan’s hands hurt from being curled into fists and he can’t help it, can’t help the one tear that does manage to escape as Ford just drones on, “So, your Ford stayed with you after school?”

“We went to school together, worked together…”

“Worked?”

“Coffee shop,” Stan murmurs, “Us and our friends and Preston…”

“Preston? As in _Preston Northwest_?” Ford asks with some astonishment, “Fascinating…when I left my dimension, he was a mere child. If he worked with you, his age in this world must be greatly altered. Fascinating. So, you and your Ford went to school together, worked together, lived together…yet he _still_ built this, still communed with Bill…huh. His desire to escape must have been quite different.”

“He didn’t want to escape!” Stan argues fervently, “That’s not why he built this goddamn thing and he’s-he’s not out there luxuriating in his freedom or whatever the hell you think he’s-!”

“No,” Ford agrees with a sigh, “I suppose not. Considering all the radical differences, your Ford is obviously _leagues_ different from me. In fact, even from most Fords. To stick with you as long as he did and as closely...the abuse he suffered at our father’s hands must have significantly changed his whole demeanor and personality!”

Ford nods to himself, clearly happy with this rationality as he easily supplies, “It’s completely possible that your Ford is having a dreadful time on his travels. Heck, he might not even _be_ traveling. He might be caught in some nightmarish dimension where he’s suffering abuses far worse than anything our father could have doled out.”

The last barely leaves Ford before it is overpowered by Stan shouting, “GET OUT!” as he rushes forward and strikes Ford again and again. Ford, a bit more prepared this time for a physical assault, easily deflects Stan’s rabid blows as Stan screams at him again and again to leave, to just leave, to get the fuck out of his dimension and Ford – clicking one or two knobs on his gun – happily complies.

The portal whirs to life and he leaps through it, disappearing back into the multiverse to leave Stan with raw, bloodied knuckles, legs unable to stand a second longer as he collapses to his knees on the floor of the Shack basement. The portal blinks and snaps closed and nothing is there but blank nothingness and Stanley…

Stanley kneels there and sobs. He sobs his heart out, sobs for Ford, sobs for Preston…sobs for everything he’s lost and every horrible, terrible thing that awful Ford said. He sobs long and hard into the night and wishes to Christ he could fucking STOP.

Stop crying, stop hurting, stop living...

He wishes and wishes, but knows with a vivid certainty that not all dreams come true…this one in particular.


	2. Chapter 2

“Look into my eyes, Mabel! You really think I'm a bad guy?” Stan bellows over the noises around them. His silver ponytail is whipping wildly around and he’s held to the wall with such force that his whole body aches. His eyes are glazed, half wild, and he worries this will deter her, that she’ll shut the machine off and oh god, _oh god_ if she shuts it off…

“He's lying! Shut it down NOW!” Dipper cries and Mabel looks so torn so Stan begs, he begs and _begs_ , “Mabel, please!”

The computer continues its onerous countdown in the background and Mabel looks away, her hand still hovering as she breathes out heavily, “Grunkle Stan...”

Her hand lifts away from the button and she slowly rises into the air, away from it and upwards towards the stars, “I trust you.”

“MABEL, ARE YOU CRAZY?! WE'RE ALL GONNA-!”

The computer drones one last time and then everything explodes into wild, bright lights. Everyone screams. The world seems to tear apart at the seams and then? Then it all explodes back. Everything collapses with a heavy thud, colors bursting forth to fill the void of white and Stan groans as he hits the ground. Starbursts of pain shoot throughout every limb, every blood vessel, behind his eyes, but still he struggles to see what’s before him – to see if it _worked_.

The portal is a broken mass of wires and metal. It glows eerily blue, a rippling mirror and then it just…snaps closed. It closes and Stan gets to his knees. He’s breathing, he can hear his breath in his ears and his eyes…they’re full of cloudy tears and he can’t see, _he can’t see_ , he can’t…

It didn’t work.

Nothing happened.

Nothing emerged. The portal is broken and he’s gone, _he’s gone, he’s – oh god, oh no, no, god, no_ …

A broken sound escapes Stan and he cover his mouth, chokes back a sob and everything is bleeding out of him. All color, all light, all warmth. He’s cold and washed away in such pain, such pain he thought he’d never, ever feel such-

Something clatters, clangs. Something falls over and there’s a…skittering. Something is in the dark. In the shadows. Stan looks around wildly, hand dropping even as Dipper rises to his feet and marches over to Mabel, anger and worry lining his young face, making it seem impossibly older, “Mabel, are you alright? What were you thinking?! What you did-! You could have killed us!”

He hisses the last and Mabel’s lower lip trembles. Soos is still getting up and he rubs at his forehead, groaning, “Dipper, don’t…”

But Dipper is furious as he gestures to the portal, “Look at that thing! How could you let it – just let it go off like that! You were – _we_ were – so lucky nothing happened and how could you not trust me? How could you!”

“I…I did what I thought was right,” Mabel whimpers, her eyes are full of tears and Stan is seeing this and he knows he should do something but…there’s something in the shadows. He sees it move with a swift, alarming speed, a disturbing grace to its movements and it’s-! It’s behind Dipper!

Stan staggers to his feet and holds out a hand, ready to cry out, but he’s not fast enough. The black bundled creature snags both of Dipper’s elbows and draws him back. Dipper lets out a startled cry and Mabel calls out to her brother, terror quickly overtaking any other emotion.

The creature (it’s a person – isn’t it? It’s humanoid in shape – standing on two legs – or, well, not so much standing as crouching) draws out a nasty looking blade and holds it right under Dipper’s throat, curved end just scrapping his chin, a flash of bright blood clear as it gestures towards Mabel.

Mabel holds up both hands, “Wh-wait-wait!”

“Hvarnashem!” The creature growls and Stan…Stan’s moved closer. Close enough to fight this thing or tackle it or do whatever he has to, to save Dipper but…that voice…

…no…

“I-I-I don’t understand,” Mabel squeaks and the creature gestures at her again, takes the weapon tighter to Dipper’s neck, drawing more blood, “ _Hvarnashem_! Belar esqa novair!”

“Please! Don’t hurt him!” Mabel pleads, desperation twisting her voice and the creature seems to be seriously contemplating her. Its head tips to one side and it seems…lost. Dipper is frozen, trapped, and Stan licks his lips as he moves that much closer. Not wanting to startle the creature too much, he audibly coughs.

It turns quickly, so quickly that for a moment Stan’s worried it’ll slit the boy’s throat regardless, but the moment it sees Stan it lets out an alarmed bellow. It releases Dipper, shoving him forward as if an offering before it dashes towards Mabel. Mabel lets out a little scream, scared, but the creature ducks behind her. As if _she’ll_ protect it.

 _It_? Stan thinks numbly, _it or_ …?

Stan checks on Dipper. The boy is deathly pale, the drops of blood on his skin like bright red rubies on snow, but he’s fine and Stan has to know. He _has_ to know as he approaches the creature that is huddled behind Mabel’s back, “Ford?”

The creature lets out a dissenting noise, shaking its head rapidly from side to side even as it curls more into itself and as Stan gets closer he can see that much better. See that this _is_ indeed a _man_. A man garbed in rags from head to toe. Dark black and gray bundles that make him appear misshapen and his eyes are covered too. Covered with something akin to goggles that flash in the dim lights that are still working and Stan holds out a hand to him, “F-Ford? Ford, is that y-?”

Before Stan can ask more the room is flooded with noise, pounding footsteps and oh shit! Those government stooges! Stan turns, waiting to see them descend, but it’s not them.

It’s worse.

It’s Preston Northwest.

Preston and his personal guard thunder in. He looks around, sees the broken portal and Stan and, more importantly, the man behind Mabel and he points to him, “Is that him?”

“Preston, you big idiot! Don’t-!”

“Is that him?” Preston demands and his eyes are glistening with unshed tears even as his face contorts with fury. The creature huddles more behind Mabel, grabs both her shoulders, but not as he did with Dipper. With Dipper it had been offensive. This? No, this is more defensive. Beseeching. He’s using her like a shield and Mabel looks supremely upset.

Upset, until she works free of his grip and turns. She turns and they seem to lock eyes. Or, lock eyes as much as they can through the goggles, and then Mabel lets out a breath, relaxing marginally as he speaks again, tone raspy and soft, “Belar, esmora sevosee. Sevosee?”

“I…I’m…?” Mabel says helplessly and the creature reaches out, takes her tiny hands in his and brings them to the wrappings, “Sevosee?”

Mabel frowns, but then, she nods and gently, very gently she starts pulling everything away. Slowly, oh so slowly, the bindings fall away, revealing fluffy gray hair. And more. Ruddy skin, _scarred_ skin. Scars that run beneath the hair – all along the scalp. Deep, heavy scars of different ages and sizes and it’s as if someone cracked this man’s head open over and over. Plundered around inside, dug through every last scrap and then put it back together again.

A broken eggshell, all cracks and damaged yolk underneath and the man pushes at his goggles. Mabel removes these too and Stan releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding. It’s Ford. It IS Ford. But one of his eyes has changed color completely, the iris silver and it roves around wildly, much like its matching dark twin.

“Sixer…” Stan gasps and the man looks up at him, confused, and then he’s tugging at the binding on its hands and Mabel, still on some sort of autopilot, helps and then his hands, they’re freed and bared and…

“Dear god,” Preston breathes and he’s stepped closer, he’s right behind Stan now and he can look down to see. See that while one of Ford’s hands is fine, the other is missing a finger. No longer does Stanford Pines have six fingers on each hand. One hand, his left, is missing a finger. This hand looks weathered…twisted. It works; twitching slightly, other fingers still mobile, but it’s…damaged. Much like the rest of him.

He blinks owlishly and looks to Mabel, who offers gently, “H-Hey, it’s…it’s alright. It’s alright.”

He starts rocking some and she gives him a smile, “My…my name is Mabel. What’s yours?”

“Pqkirjnw,” he responds and her nose wrinkles. He laughs and shakes and then turns to see Stan and shrinks back, suddenly shifting to terror again. Once more he moves behind Mabel, doing his best to hide behind her as he mumbles, “Ma…bal. May…ebeleee…”

Mabel turns to look at him, “Look, Pkirk or-or whatever, it’s…it’s okay. That’s…that’s just my Grunkle Stan!”

“Nuh,” Ford tries and then, “No…”

“Hey! That’s English!” Mabel cries happily, as if she’s a proud parent praising a child and he does smile some.

 _That smile_.

Stan hasn’t seen that smile in…

And something in him breaks. Everything before now has seemed to move in slow motion, seemed like a bad dream, but now it snaps as he surges towards his brother, "Ford!”

“ _NO_!” Ford wails and he skitters away, moving backwards in a crab walk before he hits a wall and he covers his face with both hands protectively, “Dad, no, no, no! No more hit! No more!”

“Dad?” Dipper asks, emerging from behind them; apparently back in the moment and he looks at Stan, bewildered, but Stan…Stan feels as if he’s been stabbed through the heart. He stands there, wavering on his feet, “Sixer…don’t you…recognize me? I’m-I’m not our father…”

“Your father? Wait – is this– ?” Dipper points to the still trembling Ford and Preston takes command of the situation, because that’s what he does, “Yes, this is Stanford Pines. Stanley’s brother. My husband.”

“Your-? But you're married to Grunkle Stan!” Mabel cries and Preston sighs, “It’s a LONG story.”

He strides over to Ford, confident now, but Ford seems just as upset by Preston. He turns and starts clawing at the wall, making desperate animal noises, as if he can’t escape and when Preston reaches for him, he changes again. He becomes the viciously quick creature that first emerged from the portal. He withdraws the blade and takes a swipe at Preston, who barely avoids being cut.

Ford dashes deep into the dark recesses of the basement and everyone just stands there. Lost.

Soos, who has up until this point has said very little, scratches at his head, pushing up his baseball cap, “Um, dudes, I’m like – super confused. Who was that exactly?”

Stan lets out a heavy huff, “The author of the journals. My brother.”

Preston, who’s been looking heartbroken since his interaction with Ford, now looks angry, determined, as he snaps, “My husband!”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s too,” Stan grunts and he glares at Preston, “And just what the fu-!” he spots the kids, tries again, “-the heck are _you_ doing here?!”

“You know very well why I’m here,” Preston returns haughtily and Stan’s eyes narrow, “It was _you_ , wasn’t it? You tipped me off to the feds!”

“I knew what you were up to,” Preston returns, “I’ve known all along! I’ve done my best to recreate this portal. You know that! I’ve had teams and teams of scientists trying to recreate what Stanford did, to bring him home! But somehow, amazingly, you were having more success and I needed to be here and I knew you wouldn’t-!”

“YOU COULD HAVE JUST ASKED!” Stan thunders and Preston scoffs, rolling his eyes, “Oh, yes, of course! I’m SURE you would have invited me back into our home! Back into this place – this place that both cost us so much and-and-and-!,” Preston stops his tirade, looking pointedly at Dipper and Mabel as he mutters, “And now is NOT the time to discuss this.”

“Yeah? And when is? We’ve been putting this off for thirty years you and me. ‘Bout time we discuss it.”

“Yes, well, I would prefer not to do it in the presence of,” Preston gestures around the room. To his security detail, to Soos, to the kids. Stan growls and rubs at his face viciously. He looks into the direction Ford disappeared in. He can’t see him. He doesn’t know where he is, but he’s hidden himself well. God, Ford thought he was their _father_. And the way he reacted…

Did Ford honestly think he would hurt him? Did he think Stan would ever, EVER, do to Ford what their father had done? But then the scars, his eye, his lost finger…

Christ. Sixer had been far, far more physically damaged there (wherever there was) then here. And mentally?

Mentally…

“So, was it just me or was that guy super bonkers?” Soos whispers to Dipper and Mabel and it’s not very tactful, but it’s true, and Soos is nothing if not honest and Dipper more so, as he mumbles, “I…I guess. But…he’s the author of the journals…”

 _No_ , Stan thinks, _he WAS the author of the journals. He WAS my brother, my twin, my heart._

Now?

Now, who can say…


End file.
